Keep on Trying
by GiorgiaKerr
Summary: BB oneshot. Booth and Brennan have lunch as usual. Only this time, it's not so usual.


**Spoilers:** Methinks no. Methinks me is tired. Methinks this is a pointless (albeit fantastic, hint, hint) oneshot. Mehopes you enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** Whatever. I really don't know why I still write disclaimers. Well, the title for 'Disclaimer', anyway. I don't think I've ever actually written a proper disclaimer, come to think of it…

**Author's Note:** Geez, it's been ages! I apologise! A lot! Forgive me? Oh, and title inspired by the fact that _I love this song_.

* * *

If ever a man had perfected the art of being perpetually aggravating, disgustingly arrogant, consciously ignorant and disarmingly charming all at the same time, it was Seeley Booth.

Brennan just sat and stared at him for a few minutes. It wasn't easy to decide which of his annoying personalities to respond to first. Usually, she settled for one of the first three. They were simply easier to respond to. The latter....

The latter was a different story. Giving in to Booth's charm not only enlarged his ego, thus inflating the first three personalities, but it put her in a vulnerable situation. Not vulnerable in an emotional sense; she wasn't afraid of being hurt. She wasn't really afraid at all. Giving into his despicably generous amount of charm tended to land her in conversations she didn't want to be in.

Well, that was a lie. She enjoyed the conversation well enough. It was the evil little double-entendres that drove her mad. She wasn't stupid; she knew when she and Booth were having a discussion far beyond that of a normal professional level. Her issue was knowing whether or not they were deliberate. She was quite sure most of hers weren't, even if she did decide to play mind-games with Booth on occasion. His, however… and the way he always looked at her after.

It could get very disconcerting if she wasn't careful.

So she decided that, at this very moment, he was being consciously ignorant. Which - if she was honest – wasn't usually a far stretch for her partner. She heaved an irritated sigh.

"There is no way to tell that, Booth," she asserted. Booth raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Come on, Bones, I thought we were past this!" he complained. He was probably right; they'd covered the merits of Booth's 'gut' many a time. Yet she still felt the need to pick it apart, however figuratively.

"I'm not saying that your _gut_ is always wrong, Booth. I'm saying that right now, there is something separating your gut from your head."

Booth looked somewhere between amused and pained by that statement. "Yeah, Bones, it's called a heart, and right now, that's what you need to think with," he said adamantly. Brennan looked slightly shocked, and Booth instantly felt guilty. That probably hadn't been the best thing to say.

"You can't think with a heart, Booth. Nor can you _feel_ with a heart," she said, knowing just where to hit him in payback.

For a few minutes, neither had anything to say. There wasn't anything Booth could say back to that that wouldn't cause a much more damaging argument, and Brennan took Booth's silence as a victory. Booth suddenly realised that it would probably be considered socially twisted for them to be so close that they knew just how to hurt the other and actually _do_ it.

Then again, most people as close as they were were either siblings or married; two things he would never expect of their relationship. Booth knew they had something beyond friendship, but he'd had a beyond-friendship relationship with the men he'd served with; a few of his previous partners. He knew it was trust that created such a relationship. Trust and necessity, in the army, but with Brennan is was different. He was never – as such – _forced_ to work with her. He hadn't had to defend her in front of Cullen as he had so long ago, convince him to let her continue.

But he had. And that was what set their relationship apart from any other he'd ever had. It wasn't romantic; it wasn't paternal, platonic, or fraternal. It was some twisted and very selective combination of them all. He knew why someone as obsessive about classifying things as she was would need to stick their relationship firmly into the category of 'Friendship'.

For Brennan, there were no crossing the bounds and literal definitions. It was what made their relationship so easy and so hard at the same time.

"Okay," Booth said, giving Brennan a little time to forget that she was mad. "I'll make you a deal," he offered. Brennan's hands moved from her hips to cross over her chest.

"I'm listening," she said rather petulantly. Booth forced back laughter at her deliberate impatience.

"I'll go with my gut-"

"_No_, Booth, I-"

"Let me finish," Booth said firmly, taking a step closer; his proximity no longer unnerved Brennan.

Much.

Booth took Brennan's silence as a go-ahead. "I'll go with my gut, and when you come up with evidence, I'll believe it." His voice was somehow much less patronising than his words. "You trust my methods, I trust yours."

Brennan seemed to consider it for a few seconds before nodding slightly. "Okay, that sounds like a reasonable deal." She nodded again, convinced by her own admission. Booth looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"Really? No rant on how untrustworthy my gut is?" Both asked incredulously. Brennan smiled slightly.

"I trust your judgement, Booth. I see no reason not to trust your bowels as well," she said just to annoy him. She could give as good as she got; a fact that she was well aware of. Booth looked uncomfortable as he pulled a face.

"'Gut', Bones, really," he said, a moue of disgust in his voice. "And thank you," he added a little more graciously. He couldn't really see why Brennan had given in so easily, but he wasn't about to argue.

"I'll call you if I find anything," Brennan stated. "You're no use here," she added. Booth looked hurt.

"I am, too! I know… _stuff_…" he stammered, knowing before starting that he'd lost. "Okay, I'm better off somewhere else," he agreed.

"Damn straight, Seeley."

Booth and Brennan turned to see Cam standing in the doorway of Brennan's office, smirking slightly.

"Now get your toned butt out of my lab before I kick it out," she continued sweetly. Booth grinned and rolled his eyes.

"You just can't keep your eyes off it, Camille. No self control…" Booth clicked his tongue and shook his head in mock disapproval. Brennan watched the exchange with her usual mixture of jealousy, amusement and awe. It was amazing that they could be so easy with one another after having been a couple.

Or whatever it was they'd called it.

As far as jealousy went, though, Brennan was more jealous of the actual _exchange_ than she was of Cam. It wasn't that it wasn't _her_ who was flirting so carelessly with Booth; it was that Cam and Booth could have this little exchange without awkwardness or breaking their stride. Their relationship – or so it seemed to Brennan – was just so stable.

There wasn't anything hanging in the balance, or anyone willing and able to separate them at the tiniest hint of turmoil. When it came right down to it, Cam wasn't going anywhere unless she wanted to.

Brennan's thoughts took less than five seconds, while Booth and Cam exchanged their own strange version of pleasantries. Brennan's brain quickly caught up with her mouth.

"Well, I'll call you later, Booth?"

Booth nodded. "Sure, Bones. We'll do lunch," he said flippantly. Brennan frowned. As much as she liked spending time with Booth – and, for that matter, eating – it still annoyed her when Booth took control of her timetable.

"Booth! I might actually have something to do-"

"She's free," Cam interjected with a smile and a small nod. Booth nodded back, then turned to Brennan with a grin.

"I'll pick you up 'round one," Booth decided. Brennan opened her mouth to protest, but turned instead to Cam who'd since agreed that Brennan would be waiting.

"You're not helping!" she told her before striding out of her office rather indignantly. Cam and Booth chuckled.

"What's got her panties in a twist?" she asked ironically before repeating her earlier wishes for Booth to leave.

He left with a grin.

* * *

"Doctor Brennan, I believe your one o'clock's here," Cam reminded Brennan unceremoniously. Brennan looked across the platform to Cam. Both were bent over shiny lab tables in perfectly mirrored positions.

"My…? I don't have any appointments today…" Brennan fumbled; trying to remember whatever appointment it was she seemed to have forgotten.

"Oh, now that hurt," came a voice from behind her. Brennan's shoulders visibly slumped at the sound of the voice, while Cam just grinned.

"Hello, Seeley," she said sweetly.

"Camille," he replied brightly, before grabbing Brennan's shoulders and turning her around to push her in front of him. She squirmed slightly.

"Booth, I am not a broken down car!" she protested. Booth had to laugh.

"Interesting metaphor, Bones… I hope you're not intending to do any writing today," he teased. Brennan frowned, a little offended. Before she could answer, Booth grabbed her coat – which he'd slung over his shoulder – and placed it over her own. He left his hand there, and took the opportunity to move gracefully from behind her to walk next to her; his arm around her shoulders.

She looked at him questioningly. He just grinned.

* * *

Booth smiled as he shoved the last dozen fries into his mouth. Brennan couldn't help but smile back at the familiar scene.

"You know, you're either going to choke to death or have a heart attack eating like that," she chastised.

"Thanks, _mom_," he teased, words muffled through processed potato. Brennan rolled her eyes but didn't stop smiling. Booth swallowed, flashed his eyebrows and grinned; like someone who'd just done something impressive.

"Dessert," he stated instantly. Brennan shook her head at him.

"I'll have a coffee," she said deliberately. "But you must have an incredible metabolism, Booth," she said, a little awe in her voice. Booth's shoulders squared a little with pride. "You eat more than a growing teenager, but you still maintain magnificent muscle tone and general physique…" She trailed off, partially because she'd just realised what she'd said, and partially because Booth was looking at her strangely.

Neither said anything for a few seconds, simply staring at the other over the table. Then Booth's mouth quirked in a crooked smile. "It's all that chasing bad guys," Booth stated. Brennan's smile matched his, now. Again, neither said anything until a plate hit the table in front of Booth with a _clink_.

"Oh, pie!" Booth exclaimed excitedly, then grinning a thank you at the waitress who blushed obligingly. Brennan rolled her eyes at the whole scene. She was aware of the effect Booth had on women; it was hard not to be, really. But she also knew that Booth was well aware of it. It was almost unfair sometimes, to the women he charmed.

Though, she knew, anthropologically, it wasn't unexpected or unusual.

Nor was it unamusing.

She took a sip of the coffee that had since been placed in front of her. For diner coffee, it was pretty damn good. Though, she was quite sure that she would never have thought that before she began working with the FBI.

"Bones!"

Brennan looked up to see Booth staring at her intently. When he saw her look up, though, a smile crept onto his face.

"I thought we'd lost you there," he said with a chuckle. Brennan sighed at him but smiled back. Three years ago, that comment would have totally confused her. _How could you lose me? I'm right here!_ She almost said it anyway, just to irk Booth, but proverbially bit her tongue.

Booth tilted his head, confused by her silence. "What's up, Bones? Somethin' wrong?" he asked. Though he kept smiling, concern was evident in his voice. Brennan shook her head.

"No, everything's…" She paused and sighed, as if searching for a word, all the while keeping eye contact with Booth. "Good. Everything's… good."

Booth's face remained serious for a second before breaking into a huge grin. It was rather infectious, and Brennan had to join him. As he laughed an agreement, Brennan could smell the sugar on his breath. Though slightly startled as to their previously unnoticed proximity, Brennan said nothing.

Booth didn't have to stop his eyes straying to her lips; there was enough in her eyes to keep him occupied for the moment.

Or the next year.

Neither moved; only sat opposite each other, almost touching, grinning, as they had done so many times before. Neither minded.

"Ahem."

Booth and Brennan's eye contact broke almost immediately, as they both swivelled to see the waitress form earlier standing impatiently by their table. Looking particularly snide, obviously proud of herself for breaking up the moment, the waitress threw a cursory glance at Brennan, then turned to Booth.

"Anything else, hun?" she asked suggestively. Booth flashed a smile, knowing he could probably get whatever he wanted, but shook his head; he was much too gracious. Though, only just when it came to pie.

"Bones?" he offered. She shook her head. Though slightly offended by the brush-off, she still found it rather amusing. As the waitress moved off to serve a customer who actually wanted her attention, Brennan couldn't help but voice her amusement.

"That waitress was flirting with you, Booth," she pointed out. Booth looked at her with a slightly disgusted expression.

"Why… Bones, I – do you _have_ to be… ehg!" He trailed off, muttering incoherently.

Brennan knew how modest he could be when it came to anything relating to sex or relationships, so she figured she'd set the record straight.

"It's a natural thing to do, Booth. She finds you attractive," Brennan stated with a shrug, gesturing at him with an upturned palm. "Anthropologically, a lesser female will vie with the others of the group to win the attentions of the alpha male, namely you."

Booth looked remotely shell-shocked for a few seconds before replying, pointing his finger about an inch from Brennan's nose, elbow on table.

"So that means that there was an alpha female, namely you," he retorted, raising his eyebrows, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Brennan shrugged but matched his smile.

"In highly incorrect laymen's terms, yes," she stated matter-of-factly, downing the last of her coffee. Booth breathed a laugh at her bluntness, recognising it now as part of her, rather than an aggravating trait. Well, he still thought of it as an aggravating trait, but it was something he would never try to change. At least, not when he was in a good mood.

Booth stood, signalling the end of the discussion and tossed a couple of notes onto the table, not really willing to actually _see_ the all-too-enthusiastic waitress again. There was a possibility that he and Brennan would just have to start going somewhere else for lunch. And dinner. And the occasional breakfast.

And the coffees…

No, he decided, it wasn't worth it; he'd miss the pie too much.

As they left the diner, Booth's hand found its usual place on her back; Brennan didn't seem to notice, though Booth felt her back straighten ever so slightly. After a few more seconds, Brennan turned.

"Thanks for lunch, Booth," she said sincerely. Booth grinned a _you're welcome_.

"Any time, Bones."

The two of them stopped automatically when they reached a crosswalk. Brennan raised her eyebrows at him.

"However, next time you decide to drag me to lunch, it would be nice if you could ask my permission first," Brennan added, a little more serious. Booth laughed at her as the midday traffic snailed by.

"I did ask you, Bones!" he defended, raising his hands in surrender. "Cam just… happened to answer… first," he added carefully. Brennan rolled her eyes.

"Just because Cam is my boss does not mean she has total control over my life, Booth," Brennan argued, crossing her arms. "Especially how I spend my _free_ time."

Booth considered this for a few seconds as they crossed the road, only to come to another crosswalk. "Well, Cam can kick you out if you're not officially _working_, can't she?" he challenged, taking a step closer. Brennan's eyes narrowed.

"But I _was_ supposed to be working," she retorted, hands on hips defiantly. Booth's face lit up and she knew she'd just dug herself a hole. He pointed at her.

"Not at lunch time," was all he said, a smug look saying the rest. Brennan frowned, realising that he was probably right. She moved even closer, faces only inches apart.

"Well, still, as a matter of courtesy, Booth, I would appreciate it if you–"

Brennan's argument fell silent.

Booth's mouth was decisively pressed against hers. When he pulled back, he was smiling in victory.

"Keep on tryin', Bones," he murmured rhetorically before leaning in to press his lips to hers again.

The crosswalk changed without acknowledgement.

* * *

I'm sorry if it's horrible. I've been in kind of a recession, here. I just can't write well, it seems.

Any and all comments are appreciated, and Happy Hallowe'en!

Giorgia


End file.
